Her Secret Thrill
by iWriteGossipGirl
Summary: Blair Waldorf's impulsive and uncharacteristic night of steamy sex with a gorgeous stranger was supposed to be a one time only affair. But straitlaced Blair is determined to play by the rules and get more of what her body is craving...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One **

Blair Waldorf pasted a smile on her face and said goodnight to another cluster of Serena's glitzy guests as they left the penthouse suite. She closed the door behind them, wishing like hell she could slip out of these heels and go soak in that Olympic-size sunken tub she knew awaited her in her private bath.

She couldn't deny Serena van der Woodson knew how to throw a party … and where to throw one. The Maxi was the newest hotel in New York City and Serena had reserved the entire penthouse level for her latest bash. Typical overindulgence – Blair went for elegance over opulence – but Serena could definitely afford it. Or, more correctly, her newest client could.

At twenty-five, Serena was the crème de la crème of the young people invading the public relations business. Tonight's bash was a big coming-out party for the sexiest soap star to grace the set of the hottest soap, _Steam _. It was _the _party at which to see Chuck Bass, and to be seen by everyone else. Chuck's surgically perfected face and buffed action-figure body didn't do it for Blair, but she'd quickly learned she was the only female under eighty who apparently felt that way. Then again, she didn't recognize anyone here, so what did she know?

"Where's Serena?"

Blair spun around and automatically pasted on her hostess smile again. _Now I know how a beauty pageant director feels. Inferior, with a good case of lockjaw._

"I'm not sure where she is at the moment," Blair said graciously to the chic couple. "But I'll be certain to tell her you said goodbye. I know she was thrilled you could make it." _Whoever you are._

They gave her the _yeah, whatever _nod that clearly stated they realized she was a nobody and therefore not worthy of more of their time. Blair didn't stick her tongue out and slam the ten-foot-tall door behind them, but she thought about it. Which only went to show how late it really had gotten. She couldn't care less what these people thought of her. Glitz and glam was Serena's life. Corporate law was hers. She smiled, thinking it really wasn't much different. Sharks and barracudas abounded in both arenas. Serena just swam with better-looking sharks.

They'd shared a dorm at law school for four semesters before Serena had dropped out to head for the Big Apple to realize her own dream. That was six years ago. Blair looked around and had to smile in approval. They'd both done pretty well. It was probably their drive to succeed that had kept them close despite their crazy schedules. Blair lived in New York City but traveled all over the country. Serena worked out of L.A., but also traveled extensively.

The only reason Blair had come at all tonight was that they'd both been in the same town at the same time, and that happened all too rarely. She'd agreed to stay with her in the penthouse so they could spend some time together. Not, she thought as she looked through the rapidly thinning crowd, that she'd actually gotten to do much of that. She sighed but shrugged it off. Serena was …well, Serena.

* * *

><p>Ninety minutes and a couple of dozen more locked-jaw goodbyes later, Blair sank thankfully back against the double doors. "Finally." Serena had never surfaced. Knowing her, Blair figured she had let Chuck talk her into hitting some hot club or another party. Serena was a slave to her career and loved every minute of it. Of course, Blair thought with a private smile, Serena had probably let Chuck think he was her slave master.<p>

She shook her head and wandered to the oasis that was the kitchen, gathering up empty glasses as she went. She had let the bartending and wait staff go home at two. It was now almost three. She knew there would be a cleaning crew coming in the morning, so she'd just set these in the sink and head toward that sunken tub.

"Excuse me."

Blair squealed and spun around. The deep voice belonged to a tall guy with golden brown hair and amused-looking blue eyes, who quickly stepped forward to catch the crystal stemware she almost bobbled to the floor.

He rescued two of them, and Blair managed to get the other three onto the counter intact.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

She shook her head, willing her pounding heart out of her throat. "I – I thought I was alone." She meant to look away, regain her composure, but something about the direct, easy way he held her gaze prevented her from doing so. "Let me, uh, that is, I, um—" She broke off, suddenly feeling silly for being so tongue-tied. Like she hadn't seen a hundred gorgeous guys tonight. It was just that he looked, well… real. It was simply a shock after all those capped teeth and spa-pumped pecs.

Taking a discreet, calming breath, she trotted out the pageant director smile one last time. "I'll show you to the door." She stepped forward, obviously expecting him to move back out of the doorway and follow her. Only, he didn't do as she expected.

She stopped, feeling the first tiny frisson of – well, not fear exactly, but definitely awareness that she was alone in this suite with a stranger. A stranger that had a good four inches and fifty or sixty pounds on her.

Projecting the calm, cool wherewithal that had gotten her farther inside the boardroom than most women her age – hell, twice her age – she gestured ahead of her. "This way, please."

She knew the look she was giving him made it perfectly clear she had no intention of playing any games. It was a look she'd perfected back in boarding school. Boys, especially rich ones, thought all a girl needed was a sharp smile and a fat bank account to fall thankfully on her back and spread her legs. Boys, rich or otherwise, learned quickly that Blair Waldorf was not impressed with vast wealth, much less a hotbod.

As it turned out, men hadn't proven to be any different from boys.

By now the look was second nature to her. She didn't mind the ice princess reputation it had earned her, either. In fact, she took pride in it. At the end of the day, she knew – as did they – that she'd gotten where she was by working hard. With her knees firmly in the closed position.

She held his gaze evenly and motioned to the door. He smiled at her. Totally unaffected by "the look." Before she could follow up with her patented verbal ice blast, he nodded to a point behind her. "My jacket. It's in the other room."

Oh. Blair simply refused to blush. Waldorfs didn't. She'd learned at her father's knee to smooth over minor gaffes with unshakable calm. Therefore, the knowing twinkle in the guy's eye meant less than nothing. Not even a ripple. Really.

"I'll meet you at the door, then," she said, all good grace and polished manners.

"No need to bother. I can show myself out," he said as he moved past her.

She swore she could feel the heat emanate from his body. Probably a flashback to the tightly pressed throng of bodies she'd been wedged into all night. Nothing more. She resisted the urge to fan her face. At least he wasn't doused in some designer scent. Whatever he was wearing was very subtle. And quite effective.

She refrained from sniffing the air behind him, but barely. Obviously she was far more tired than she'd thought. Good breeding – nothing else, certainly – sent her to the front door. She'd see him out simply to assure herself she was well and truly alone. No other reason.

"I have a problem."

She started at the sound of his voice. Damn him for doing that to her. Twice. She turned. "What problem?" She'd sounded sharper than she'd meant to, almost snappish. _Calm and controlled, Blair. _Never snappish. That he had her reminding herself of things that were normally automatic responses only proved how overtired she really was.

She smoothed her features into a composed mask, although truthfully, she felt anything but. Certainly it was the fatigue, after all, it was after three in the morning – but there was no denying he unsettled her with that direct, amused gaze of his. What was it about this guy, anyway?

He was nice enough to look at, if you went for the tall, muscular type. Actually, she wasn't sure what her type was. But it certainly wasn't this guy here here. Not that he was all that bad when you stopped and really looked him over. _Rugged_. Yes, rugged was the right way to describe him, now that she thought about it. He definitely filled out his black jeans and that amber knit pullover pretty damn convincingly—

Dear God, she was ogling. She jerked her gaze up to his face. He spared her the knowing smile, but somewhere behind those eyes of his she knew he was feeling smug.

"What is the problem?" she asked again, just wanting him gone. The hell with being polite. He'd found his jacket, so that wasn't it. The well-worn brown leather jacket made those shoulders look wider, his arms bigger, his chest broader. Whoever created his look had definitely chosen well.

Serena had told her plenty of the stories about casting directors who discovered guys in the unlikeliest of places and, with a personal trainer, personal shopper and good dentist, turned them into daytime gods. Mechanic, Blair thought. Construction worker. UPS delivery guy.

"My wallet," he said, breaking into her reverie.

Caught again. What was wrong with her, anyway? Never mind the sunken bath, she was going right to bed.

"I gave it to Chuck to tip the limo guy." He shrugged and smiled. "Guy just signed a seven-figure contract but never has money on him." Those blue eyes twinkled quite charmingly. "Probably why he keeps me around."

"Chuck? As in Chuck Bass?" She groaned inwardly. She'd been ogling a groupie. At least she could have consoled herself if he was a working professional, instead of a … a sycophant, a hanger-on.

"We grew up together. Lamont,Wyoming."

A childhood groupie. Even worse. He'd made a life out of standing in his pal's spotlight. But this was none of her business. "Let me get my purse, I'll be glad to loan you—"

"I don't need the money," he said quickly. "It's just that Chuck—"

Right then, a loud thumping reverberated through the room at the end of the hallway, followed shortly thereafter by someone screaming, "God, yes!"

That someone sounded suspiciously like Serena.

"What the—?" Blair went to move past him down the hallway.

The stranger reached for her arm. "You might not want to—"

His warning wasn't even completed before another, far more masculine, shout echoed around the room. "Ooooooooh,yessssss . I'm coming, baby!"

Blair froze as an incredibly primitive and impossibly loud groan followed that pronouncement. Shrieks of undeniable rapture accompanied said groan. Serena's.

Well. Okay, then. Blair was pretty sure that in her entire twenty-five years she'd never once covered this particular social gaffe. At least she now knew where Serena had gotten off to, after all. _Gotten off. _Dear Lord. Her face flushed and no amount of social breeding was going to stop it.

"I'm sorry," he said from behind her.

She turned to face him. Best just to brazen it out. "Well, I guess I'm really not alone, after all." She wanted to smile brightly, make light of the whole thing, but she couldn't pull it off.

"Yeah." He did have the grace to look a little uncomfortable. "Listen, maybe I will just head downstairs and see if the bar is still open or … or something. I'm staying with Chuck and I don't have keys to his place," he added by way of explanation. Then he gave up and grinned. "This is really embarrassing, isn't it?"

And just like that, she suddenly found the whole situation hilarious. She was already laughing even as she nodded in agreement. And once she started, she couldn't seem to stop. He joined in, and they were both leaning against the hallway walls by the time they managed to stop long enough to catch their breath.

"Um, just tell Chuck I'll be in the lobby. Or leave a note. Whatever."

"But what if— I mean, are you sure he'll be leaving?"

"If I had my wallet, I'd just get a room, but—"

Whatever she'd thought moments ago, right now Blair felt a certain kinship with him. They were both being put in an incredibly awkward position by their friends. The least she could do was end it as gracefully and quickly as possible.

"I know you'd rather handle this on your own, but I honestly don't mind reserving a room for you. You can always switch the charge to your card when you … um, get your wallet back." Laughter threatened to erupt again, but she tamped it down. She was so tired now that she knew the giggles were perilously close to the surface. Best to get him on his way so she could go bury herself in her room under a mound of covers and forget this whole episode.

She didn't give him a chance to refuse. She moved past him and went toward her bedroom, where she'd stashed her purse in a dresser drawer. "I'll be right back."

"Really, it's okay," he said, half following her down the hall. "You don't have to—"

And just then, the thumping started again.

Blair stopped and whirled around. "Oh, for heaven's sake." She looked at the far wall, where the paintings already had shifted to an odd angle. Serena's bedroom was on the other side of that wall. The thumping increased. And there were groans now. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered.

"I'm sorry. I don't know your name."

She looked at him. "Excuse me?"

"Your name?"

It took her a moment to process the request and why it mattered. It was impossible to think with the sex marathon getting into full swing in the next room. She was fairly certain swing might be the operative word. "My name? Blair," she said absently, trying hard to block out the escalating groans and _yeah,babys _coming from the other room.

"I'm Nate. Listen, Blair, why don't I get you out of here and buy us both a cup of coffee."

She looked at him as if he had just grown two heads. What was he saying? He was asking her out? "You don't have any money."

He grinned sheepishly. "Okay, well then, I'll let you buy me a cup of coffee."

"But I can't reserve you a hotel room? What, you have a limit on charitable donations?" This whole conversation was getting strange.

But then he stepped closer to her, and she found herself completely focusing on his blue eyes. She told herself it was the only way to block out at least some of the shrieks of ecstasy now coming from the other room.

"What kind of vitamins do they take, anyway?" he asked.

Then he grinned. It was the grin that did it. Or maybe Serena's noisy climax. She wasn't sure. All she knew was that she couldn't stay in this room one more second.

"Come on," he said again, as if sensing her shift. "Let's get out of here and leave them alone. Not that they seem to care, but I do."

Right at that moment, she couldn't find a hole in that logic. She ducked into her room, snatched her purse and headed to the front door, not even looking to see if he was following her. She'd buy them some coffee, talk him into letting her get a room for him, and hope that by then Serena and Chuck would have screwed themselves into unconsciousness – and she could crawl into her bed and sleep till noon.

Galvanized by the plan, she walked over to the elevator and punched the only button on it. Nate stepped out into the hall, Serena's shouted "Yes, right _there!" _following him through the open doorway.

They both stepped into the elevator, careful not to look at each other. Or at the door to the penthouse. Blair punched the lobby button.

"Going down," intoned a deep recorded voice.

They both glanced at each other. Nate snickered first. Blair snorted. Then they collapsed in laughter that continued for the entire eighty-eight floors.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Blair was slightly overdressed in a gold-colored tunic – Serena's – over tight black silk pants. Also Serena's. She'd only caved to Serena's pleading and worn the slinky attire because she knew she'd be in the penthouse all night and not out in public. Well, she was out in public now. But after what she'd just been through upstairs, wearing pants that clung to her ass and outlined her thighs like a second skin, along with a top that could only be worn with no bra, seemed like a cakewalk in terms of public discomfort.

They were in an all-night café several doors down from The Maxi. Nate motioned past the counter to a small booth. Thankful, she took him up on the offer. Not as much of her would show if she was tucked into a booth.

His hand brushed the bare skin of her back ever so slightly as she moved in front of him to slide into her seat. For whatever reason, that brief touch was like a hot jolt of electricity. Flustered and caught off guard by the heat of her reaction, she instantly opened the small menu in front of her, even though she had no intention of ordering more than one quick cup of coffee. She just didn't want him to notice the fact that her nipples had become little heat-seeking missiles.

Surely it was the atmosphere she'd just left that was making her body react that way. Mortifying as it had been, there was also no denying it had been just a little bit … well, arousing.

"Black, please," she mumbled to the waitress. _What was she doing here again? _Now that she'd escaped the sex-o-ramaupstairs, she was having second thoughts.

"I'll have the same, please. But with cream." Nate smiled at the tired waitress. "Real cream if you have it."

The waitress actually smiled. "Sure thing, hon."

Blair's eyebrows lifted. "I didn't think waitresses were allowed to smile in New York City. Isn't that a code violation or something?"

Nate grinned and shrugged out of his jacket. "Guess it's that Wyoming charm my mom pounded into me."

And damn if he didn't have it. She could keep on telling herself that it was the late hour and her obvious fatigue, but her life had stepped so far outside its neat little box in the past fifteen or so minutes, she decided to just say the hell with it and go with the flow. Tomorrow, life would resume. And boy, were she and Serena going to have a little talk.

But for now, she was drinking coffee at a quarter-to-four in the morning with a good-looking guy in the city that didn't sleep. Might as well enjoy the rare adventure.

"So, how long have you known Serena?"

Small talk. Small talk was safe enough. "Since law school." She smiled over his obvious surprise. "Serena dropped out. I didn't."

"What kind of law do you practice?"

"Corporate. Boring stuff." She loved her job but didn't want to talk about herself. She wanted to talk about him. He was the adventure, after all. "What do you do back inWyoming?" Then she remembered. He was one of Chuck's followers. Oh well, she wouldn't let that dampen her newfound spirit of adventure. She could sustain her little thrill for at least as long as it took to have one cup of coffee.

"Cattle ranch."

She couldn't hide her surprise. "You work on a cattle ranch?" _Cowboy_. She should have guessed. Definitely more a cowboy type than a UPS guy. Although they both looked damn fine in brown. She felt that giggle rising in her throat again and took a sip of the coffee the waitress had set down.

"Actually, it's a family-run operation. I'm fourth generation. But I spend more time on airplanes than I do on the ranch."

"Ranching requires a lot of travel?"

"It's as much a corporation as it is a ranch. I handle the business end of things. We sell our stock worldwide."

"Wow, I never knew cows were in such demand."

"Cattle. And our breed is. We Archibalds have been selling cattle for as long as there's been cattle in the West. Or close enough, anyway," he added with a grin. He lifted his cup, and she found herself studying his hands. They were long, with slender fingers that she could see were quite scarred. Apparently he hadn't spent his whole life in airplanes.

Echoes of Serena and Con rippled through her mind, and she couldn't help wondering what those rough hands of Nate's would feel like if he—

"Is this the first time Serena has ditched herhostessing duties on you?"

She jerked her gaze back to her own mug. "Actually, no. Most of the time, Serena goes where the evening leads her." She smiled dryly. "I just thought this time it led her out of the penthouse. I don't mind helping out. I know the party was important to her, business-wise." She stopped just then, remembering what "business" Serena had been engaged in.

She felt a little heat rise to her cheeks and covered it with another sip of coffee. It was one thing to laugh with a stranger when caught in an uncomfortable situation, but now that they were sitting in the relative quiet of a coffee shop, she couldn't simply discuss it as if it were an everyday topic.

"You said you knew Chuck as a child," she said, gamely moving the conversation along. "I guess you must be pretty proud of his success."

"I'm happy he's found something he likes. His family back home is soaking it all up, enjoying his celebrity status." Nate smiled. "Even if they are a bit uncomfortable with the show itself. Have you seen it?"

Blair shook her head. "I've only heard what Serena told me. I guess a name like _Steam _sort of sums things up, though."

"Exactly. Chuck's parents aren't uptight, and neither is our town, really. But I have to admit the show was a lot more graphic than I'd ever thought. Especially right in the middle of the day."

"Not a soap fan, I take it," she said.

"No." He chuckled. "Although, I'm thinking about changing my mind. Beats CNN when you're on the road alone as much as I am."

He laughed, and so did Blair, but she couldn't push the accompanying images out of her mind. Nate in all those hotel rooms, watching all those amorous couples on the television screen, feeling amorous himself, doing—

She cleared her throat. "I – I used to watch a couple of them. In college. Actually, it was Serena that got me watching. She has always loved the entertainment industry. I'm not at all surprised she's found her niche there. Things have really taken off for her."

"You sound like a good friend."

She smiled at that. "Thanks. I'm not so sure she'll agree after I have a little chat with her tomorrow, though."

He raised his eyebrows. "What are you going to say?"

"Well, just that I don't really appreciate her putting me in such an awkward position. Not the hostessing – I could do that in my sleep. But what if there had been more people still around when they started – you know."

His grin made his eyes twinkle. "Well, that could have been interesting. Maybe everyone would have loosened up a little."

Blair's mouth dropped open,then snapped shut. What was he suggesting? An orgy?

As if sensing her thoughts, he added, "Well, you have to admit that was a pretty uptight group. Everyone was so concerned with who was talking to whom and what designer they were wearing. I've never seen so many self-involved people in my life. No disrespect to your friend. She wasn't like that at all."

Blair blew out a breath and relaxed. "No, she's not, but I agree about the rest. Although you should mingle with the people in my firm trying to make partner. Talk about self-involved. Only, all the talk is about investment counselors, stock portfolios and real estate. The only designers they talk about are interior designers." She suddenly started laughing.

"What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing." But she couldn't stop grinning. "Okay, I was just picturing Serena pulling that stunt during one of my business parties." She rolled her eyes. "Although, I don't think even Serena and Chuck doing the wild thing right in the middle of the room would have loosened up any of them."

Nate shared her laugh. "Guess your world is pretty buttoned-up, huh?"

She considered that. "On the surface, certainly. Behind the scenes … well, let's just say the gossip mill doesn't suffer from lack of worthy grist to keep it going."

"I think people are all pretty much the same in that regard, once you get beneath the surface, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, no matter whether they are free spirits like Serena and Chuck, or a three-piece suit whose daily routine is as predictable as the weather, underneath they are all still motivated by sex. Or their sexual nature, anyway. Suit might not ever do what Serena and Chuck did, but that doesn't mean he might not fantasize about it, or wish that he was bold enough to do it."

"I don't think that's the case at all. I mean, some people would be appalled publicly and feel exactly that same level of mortification personally."

He took a sip, considering, then held her gaze over the edge of his coffee cup. "Did you?"

She stilled. Or, at least, her heart felt as if it had. "I beg your pardon?"

But her attempt to make him reassess the conversational turn he'd taken didn't even make him blink. If anything, he looked even more determined. "I said, did you? You were definitely uncomfortable, so was I. I mean, it's an embarrassing situation, no question. Made more so by the fact that we were strangers to each other, but both knew the … well, them." He put his mug down. "But other than dealing with my presence while you were listening to them, were you really appalled _personally _by what they were doing in there?" He leaned closer. "If you'd been alone, what would you have done?"

His expression was daring her. She took him up on it. "I'd have gone into my room, closed the door and run a loud bath. I believe in giving people their privacy."

"Okay. So not appalled, then. You'd just remove yourself from the situation."

She thought for a moment, then nodded.

"So you're in the tub. Are you honestly not thinking about them then? Thinking about what you just heard?"

"Probably I'd be thinking about it, it'd be pretty hard to ignore. I mean, it's not a typical thing to be presented with."

"So you'd be thinking about it. Appalled? Or aroused?"

She wasn't liking where he was going, she'd come here to get away from this – not examine it. But his question intrigued her. Mostly because she was finding something out about herself that surprised her. And since it was only a harmless discussion, she saw no harm in sharing it

"Maybe I'd be aroused. But not in a voyeuristic way. I can't say that element has ever remotely appealed to me. But in the earthy way it would make you think about sex in general, I suppose."

There, that was safe and analytical sounding. Never mind that she wanted to squirm in her seat and that the friction of her shirt against her nipples was driving her mad at the moment. He didn't have to know that. Looking into those amusement-filled blue eyes of his, however, she had to wonder.

"So you see, we _are _all the same," he concluded. "In general, I mean. We might have different fantasies. You don't get into voyeurism. But you have other things that work for you. We all do. No matter how prim and proper we are on the surface, we are all basically driven by our sexual selves, don't you think?"

"Not to the exclusion of everything else, no."

"But you do agree that people who pretend they aren't sexual creatures, that they don't respond to some kind of stimuli, are fooling themselves? Even cheating themselves?"

Blair thought about that. "Perhaps."

He grinned. "You don't look too convinced."

"I think maybe there are people who don't so much deny their sexuality and their needs, as ignore them." After all, that summed her up neatly. Not that she was going to share that. "People can have other priorities besides sex." She shot him a dry smile. "Well, women can, anyway."

He raised his hands. "Ha-ha. But I'll agree that guys are a bit more sexually centered than girls. In general."

"Now, there you have my complete agreement."

He grinned and finished off his coffee. "For someone who seems fairly at home with her sexuality, you appear to be pretty conscious of those who aren't. Are all the lawyers you work with that uptight?"

She was honestly surprised at his assessment. But the surprise and the late hour had her responding before she could stop. "What makes you think I'm at home, as you call it, with my sexuality?"

"The clothes you're wearing, for one." He shrugged off her expression with a smile. "I know I probably shouldn't judge you by your appearance, but I don't know much else about you. What I do know is that outfit is definitely not for the faint of heart. Or a person not completely at home with the fact that she's a woman."

She wouldn't squirm. She wouldn't. But damn if she didn't want to. She should have felt self-conscious about that description. And she did. But she also kind of … liked it. Still, she felt compelled to be honest. Besides, no way could she back up what this outfit promised.

"Thank you for the compliment. But in the spirit of full disclosure, I must admit that these clothes belong to Serena." She folded her arms on the table. "She didn't find my legal-eagle party clothes suitable for her basically just proves my point. Serena is sexually adventurous, and her wardrobe and lifestyle reflect that. But I'm not, and my wardrobe and lifestyle reflect that." There, now at least he'd know she wasn't advertising something she had no intention of putting on the market.

Although, she couldn't deny that the thought sent a brief thrill through her.

Nate seemed to think for a moment about what she'd said. "So which precludes which?"

Confused, she said, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, does the lifestyle and wardrobe follow the inherent nature of the woman? Or does the woman simply choose to bury her nature due to her lifestyle and accompanying wardrobe?"

Blair had no answer for that. It was one thing to reveal that maybe, just maybe, she'd enjoyed daydreaming once in a while about having a wild fling after hearing one of Serena's tales. It was quite another admitting she was really more like Serena deep down, or would be if she allowed herself to be. Was she? Had she really subverted her nature because of her family and her career?

"I guess a little of both," she answered as honestly as she could. "My family is not outward about stuff like that, but I can't say I share that. Not fully. I might not be comfortable with outward displays, but it doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy them. Maybe. With the right person. I do enjoy my career, and it is my priority right now. I don't feel like I'm giving anything up for that." She shrugged. "But maybe I repress that side of me to some point. I don't think I deny I have it, however." She looked at him with a little grin. "I guess I haven't found an easy way to combine the two, so sex usually loses out."

Was she really sitting here having a frank talk about her sexual nature with a guyshe just met? But she couldn't deny it was the most stimulating thing she'd done in recent memory. Stimulating in several ways.

He didn't say anything, just responded with a little smile of his own.

She realized she was really enjoying herself. He was fun to talk to, intriguing, thought-provoking. She was ashamed at her earlier assessment and rejection of him. Maybe she was guilty of categorizing men, making them less appealing to her so she didn't have to deal with them. Something else she'd have to think about. What was she afraid of, anyway?

Well, _that _she knew. Though it wasn't fear. Merely an intelligent assessment of past problems. Entanglements impeded her career. Right now, she was simply not up to dealing with all the baggage and emotional drain that inevitably came with building a long-term relationship.

He smiled at the waitress when she brought more coffee and cream. He waited for her to leave, then turned his full attention back to Blair. "I can hear the wheels turning over there. What are you thinking?"

She lifted her shoulders and sipped at her coffee. "Nothing. Everything." She laughed lightly. "I'm not used to such deep philosophical conversations at—" she glanced at the wall clock and groaned "—four-thirty in the morning. My God, how did it get to be so late?"

"It was already 'so late' when we started this."

She looked at him then. And he was looking at her. _Really _looking at her. And it was as if the air stilled … or something. A certain kind of quiet descended between them, encompassed them. Her throat grew tight, as he continued to look at her.

"Started this?" she managed to say, hardly above a whisper.

He didn't shift so much as a hair. Didn't reach out to touch her or make any kind of calculated move. He simply held her gaze as easily as he had all night long and looked at her as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "Yeah," he said quietly. "This."

Blair felt such a rush of arousal that she clutched her coffee mug like a lifeline. Amazing. No one had ever made her react like that. And other than that little brush of his fingertips, he hadn't even touched her since they walked in. And yet … she felt him.

She wanted to believe it was just the obvious stimulation of their conversation. But surprisingly, neither of them had been at all leering or suggestive the entire time they'd made the way he was looking at her now all the more erotic.

Ridiculous. There was nothing here. It was simply an intriguing interlude with a stranger.

A stranger that was currently soaking her panties just by looking at her. And honestly, when was the last time that had ever happened to her? More honestly, when was the last time she'd ever have let anyone get close enough for her to find out?

And this little moment she thought they were sharing could be in her sleep-deprived head, too, she thought with a silent laugh. Or she could just come out and ask him what he meant by this. No. No, she couldn't. This was fun and even exciting. But no. She had a life to return to, a plane to catch late tomorrow. Later today, actually. And he had business. In Wyoming of all places. She was never in Wyoming—

Which suddenly made _this _sound perfect.

She was wanting. He looked to be willing.

She wanted to clamp a hand over her mouth. A one-night stand? Blair Waldorf? But in the next breath, she thought, _and why the hell not? _Maybe she'd been repressing more than she thought. Because the idea scandalized her. And turned her on so much, she thought she might come just thinking about it.

Oh … my … God. She wouldn't. She couldn't.

Serena would.

She looked at him, then down at those hands of his. When she looked back up, that amused twinkle was back in his eyes. "We're not—This is just—" She couldn't look away from his eyes. "Coffee," she finished, almost breathlessly.

He nodded. "Best coffee and conversation I can remember having. Maybe ever."

He glanced down at his coffee but it was the look in his eyes when he lifted his gaze back to hers that did it. Not smug, not aggressive, not pleading. Simply … honest. "Would you like to extend this conversation?" he asked.

Her throat closed over. Her nipples were so tight now that they actually hurt. He wanted her. Right now. And there was no denying she wanted him. Right now.

And frankly, right now, that was all that mattered. It was that simple. That thrilling.

"Yeah." She cleared her throat, her heart began to race. "I mean, yes. Yes, I believe I would like that. Very much."

"More coffee?"

Blair jerked her gaze from Nate and looked up at the waitress. "Um, no. No thank you. Just the check."

The waitress laid the bill on the table. Blair nervously fished out a ten and tossed it on the pile, not caring about the change.

Now what?


	3. Chapter 3

Warning: Sex!

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER THREE<strong>

In the movies, this was where it always segued to the two lovers groping inside the private confines of their room. Blair swallowed. The movies never dealt with that awkward transition sequence.

Then Nate was standing beside her holding out his hand, that charming grin crinkling the corners of his blue eyes. And it was as easy – and as hard – as just reaching out and taking that hand. She took it. He let her hand go as soon as she stood, but there was that electric brushing of his warm hand on her bare lower back as he guided her to the front door and out into the New York sunrise.

She stopped and turned, an awkward laugh escaping her. "Um, I guess the standard 'your place or mine' is out of the question?" She wanted the adventure, but she wasn't taking him back to her place.

He laughed. "Yeah. I had forgotten about that."

Her heart was pounding, but Blair relaxed a little. It was obvious that he wasn't used to this, nor had he planned it, any more than she had. That relieved her. And somehow made this all the more erotic and exciting.

"Maybe another room at The Maxi?" she offered.

"Actually, I know a place. Uptown. I've stayed there before. It's quiet, out of the way." He caught her gaze. "Private."

She liked the sound of that. "Okay." She stepped to the curb to whistle for a taxi. The streets were pretty quiet; only the early risers and workaholics were out.

He reached for her hand and tugged her back. She whirled, liking the contact of his hand on hers. When he went to drop it, she instinctively tightened her grip. He paused, looked at her, then tightened his grip as well. She liked the assurance it gave her that they were both in this together.

"We have another stop to make first," he said, then nodded toward a drugstore on the corner.

Dear Lord, she was so far gone that she'd forgotten about all that.

"I wasn't exactly planning on meeting you," he said. She liked how he said that. Not "I wasn't planning on having a night of wild sex." Just that he hadn't planned on her. Specifically her.

Careful, Blair. Wild sex was exactly what all this was. Nothing personal, nothing lasting.

He tugged on her hand, and they walked to the corner. His hands were both smooth and rough. And warm. And big. His fingers were all but wedged between her slender ones. She shivered at the thought of where else they might wedge themselves.

"Cold?"

It was early fall, but even now there was a bit of summer in the air. Though that wasn't why she felt warm. She smiled at him and thought,_ what the hell_."Not hardly."

He grinned. "I think you should let Serena dress you more often. Brings out the wild side."

She laughed as they pushed into the drugstore. "Maybe it does."

What should have been an awkward errand surprised Blair by turning into part of their foreplay. Nate kept her hand firmly in his as he wound his way up and down the aisles, looking for condoms. He glanced over at her, that grin playing around the corners of his mouth. "Ribbed or smooth?"

She tried to play it cool, to keep her mouth from simply dropping open, but she couldn't.

He laughed. "I'll choose."

So much for abandoning all her staid principles. But he didn't make her feel self-conscious about it. In fact, she got the feeling he was rather enjoying teasing her. She was certain of it, when he stopped as they passed a refrigerated unit.

"Hmm." He slid open one door and pulled out a slender canister. "Harbor any fantasies about whipped cream?"

She tilted her head as if to ponder the question, when the truth was she'd never once thought about sex with whipped cream on top. "Give me a few minutes," she finally said, when he raised his eyebrows.

He laughed outright but put the can back. She was almost disappointed. Almost. Right now she only wanted him. Unadulterated.

They made their way to the counter. She should have been uncomfortable, standing with him while he – or rather she – made such an obvious purchase, but instead she held the clerk's rather direct gaze with a direct one of her own. _Go ahead_, she thought, _judge me. But I'm going to be having a lot more fun in __the next couple of hours than you will_. Right then, she began to see why Serena indulged in this side of life.

It _was _fun.

Nate got the taxi. He gave the cabbie directions, then leaned back. The radio was blasting and the traffic was steadily picking up. They were both silent, but Nate still held her hand. As they made their way uptown, he began to trace small patterns on her palm with his fingertip.

She didn't squirm. Or lunge at him. But she wanted to do both. She'd assumed people who did this would be groping and tearing at each other's clothes the whole way to their room. This wasn't at all how she would have pictured it. It seemed so sedate. Detached. And yet, it was anything but. Sitting silently next to him, feeling his fingers on her palm, was extremely sensitizing. It allowed her to think, to feel, to absorb. To imagine that fingertip brushing her in other places, slowly, lazily.

He made her feel that there was all the time in the world and he intended to make good use of each and every second.

Dear God, but she was dying to have him.

* * *

><p>It wasn't awkward at the hotel, either. They knew him there, but were discreet enough not raise an eyebrow when she slid her credit card across the desk. There was the briefest of moments when they asked about needing a bellman for their luggage, just enough to tell her that Nate didn't typically show up with a woman on his arm at the crack of dawn. Enough to make her feel better … but also just enough to make her feel naughty. In a sort of decadent, delicious way. <em>Was this really Blair Waldorf?<em>

As he guided her across the thickly carpeted lobby, she decided she was glad they'd come here. The hotel was small, but intimate and modestly elegant. Apparently cowboys had style. She let Nate direct her to the elevator. They were the only two to step inside.

When the doors swished shut, Blair felt a tiny jolt of panic. Well, not panic, but … reality maybe.

"You okay?"

He was so aware of her. She liked it, rather than resented it. If he was that in tune to her, it could only mean good things later. Right? She tried not to gulp. She was really doing this. In broad daylight, even. Somehow that made it feel even more sinful.

She looked at him and he took her hand, that playful, sexy smile on his face. Oh, yeah. She was definitely doing this.

"I'm nervous," she said honestly. "But very okay."

He smiled. "Me, too. On both counts."

She laughed suddenly. "I have to say it – I can't believe I'm doing this." Might as well get that out in the open.

"Me, either." He moved closer to her. "Although, I'm beginning to think I owe Chuck a thank you."

She nodded. "I'm probably not going to be having that talk with Serena, after all."

The doors slid open, but they stood, mere inches apart, staring at each other. "I need to ask you something," she said.

The doors started to slide shut, but Nate reached out and held the button. "Ask me anything."

"What is this – exactly?" She laughed a bit nervously at his confused expression. "I mean, I know what _this _is. But I'm catching a plane later today. And another one a few days after that. And so on. I wasn't planning on—"

He pressed one of those long, slender fingers against her lips. "This can just be … this. No strings. No tomorrow." He let his finger slide slowly off. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

She was pretty sure that was exactly what she wanted to hear. She didn't dwell on anything beyond that. "Yes."

He let his finger off the button, and the doors shut. "Come here," he said softly, and pulled her into his arms. She went into his arms as if she'd been there hundreds of times before. And yet it was an electrifyingly original experience. He tipped her chin up and angled his head. "Let's kiss. And go from there."

His kiss was tender but firm. His lips warm and dry … then quickly wetter. She slid her arms around his waist and smoothed her hands up his back. There was something deeply elemental about how overpowering he was compared to her shorter, slighter frame. But rather than be intimidated by it, she was secretly aroused by it.

In fact, as his hands moved up her back and cupped her head, moving it exactly where he wanted it, she felt an undeniable urge to have him move her whole body exactly how and where and whatever way he wanted it. She wanted him to be in control, to take her … and make her like everything he wanted to do to her.

She would have been shocked by the realization – she was definitely one for equal partnerships – but she was too busy reeling from the feel of his tongue invading her mouth. He didn't push or shove. He enticed. Goaded. Teased. Twined. Made her want to do the same. So she did.

There was a sudden clearing of throats.

Blair jerked her head up to find two elderly men staring at them. The lobby stretched out behind them. They'd apparently gone back down. She'd forgotten they were even in the elevator.

Her cheeks warmed. Nate caught her eye and winked, then tugged her out of the elevator. "You take this one, gentlemen. We'll catch another one."

Blair was going to tell him that wasn't necessary. In fact, she might have enjoyed making the old codgers squirm a little bit on the ride back up. But the idea that maybe there was a little voyeur down deep inside her, after all, surprised her so much, she missed her chance.

Nate pushed the button on the opposite wall, got them into that elevator and gently backed her to one side. "You stand here." He moved away, pushed for their floor and stood against the opposite wall. At her questioning look, he grinned and said, "Just ensuring we make it to the room this time."

She laughed, but as the elevator jolted upward, their smiles slowly faded. They stood on opposite sides of the small car, gazes fixed on each other.

Blair felt her entire body come alive as he very deliberately let his gaze roam over her. When he met her eyes once again, she found herself slowly, shockingly, running her tongue over her lips. When she saw his throat visibly work, she grew bold enough to slowly allow her own gaze to travel over his shoulders, chest, waist, down his long legs … and back up again. Stopping very deliberately for one extended moment at the juncture between them. Then she gazed directly at his eyes. And licked her lips again.

This time he was ready. His grin was slow, his eyes hot … and demanding. His hands had been pressed to the wall behind him, but now they slid over his thighs … and rested on the zipper of his pants. Her eyes widened at the very primal, direct gesture, and her knees went a bit weak. She'd never thought about watching a guy stroke himself. Ever. It simply wasn't part of her sexual experience. But damn if she didn't want to add it in. Right now.

She looked to his eyes and saw a taunting there. Was he daring her? Did he want her to ask him? She looked back to his hands, but they just stayed there, resting over the bulge she knew very well was behind them.

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Her breath came out in one long sigh. But there was more frustration in it than relief.

He reached for her hand, she lifted hers to his. She was half wondering if he was going to direct it to his fly, but he folded his fingers between hers and pulled her out of the elevator into the hallway. He checked his room key, then the signs, and headed down the hall with her in tow. She liked his long-legged stride, liked the way he kept looking down at her with such heat in his eyes.

Suddenly he tugged her against him and ducked into the little vending machine alcove. "You're driving me crazy," he murmured against her mouth just before taking it again.

Blair thrilled to the way he simply took her. But while his kiss was demanding, it was also generous. He gave … aggressively.

When he pulled back, they were both breathing heavily. "I could climb right out of my skin, I want you so badly." The rush of pleasure his roughly spoken words sent through her was so intense, it was all she could do to nod in agreement. He wrapped her against him, then finally swore and left the alcove. "I'm going to embarrass myself completely if I don't get you in that room right now."

Blair decided right then that groping and tearing had its moments, too. She was itching to pull off every stitch he had on. He fumbled the key card into the slot, repeating the motion three times before they finally got the door open.

Blair didn't even pay attention to the lovely little room or the original antique furnishings. In fact, if he hadn't been as hot to get to her as she was to get to him, she'd have been appalled at her greedy behavior.

He slid off his jacket, yanking the bag from the drugstore out of the pocket and tossing it on the bed before tossing the jacket in the general vicinity of the closet. But just when Blair thought – hoped – he'd drag her to him and thoroughly ravish her, he stilled, drew in a deep breath,then laughed lightly, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I wasn't like this even when I was sixteen." He looked at her with an adorably wry smile. "I guess my lack of finesse is showing here. Once a cowboy, always a cowboy."

"I'm not finding anything lacking." Blair took a breath herself. "Except that we're still clothed."

He grinned. "Where have you been all my life?"

She laughed and let him guide her to the bed. She loved the heady mixture of laughter and passion that accompanied them so easily. Why wasn't it always this easy?

She knew why. Because there were no expectations here. No public aspect to this. Nothing to worry about beyond right this moment. She could be anyone. Do anything. And it would be just between them. No explanations. No apologies.

If she hadn't already been intoxicated by the possibilities, looking into his eyes now as he tugged his shirt out of his pants had her almost drunk and reeling with them. No apologies. No regrets. She unhooked the neck of her tunic, let it fall to her waist and stood bare-breasted before him. She was not particularly well endowed, but she'd always thought that what she had measured up all right. The leap of desire she caught in his eyes erased any other concerns she might have had. The fact that she willingly stood there boldly before him was as arousing to her as it apparently was to him.

He removed his shirt, and she forgot all about her own nudity. He was even more impressive than she'd imagined. His chest was broad and well muscled with a light swirl of hair across his pecs. His stomach was flat, his waist lean. She wanted to slide her hands in the waistband of his pants and shove them down. Her fingers curled inward against the need to follow through on that desire.

"What do you want?" He looked from her closed fists to her eyes.

He never missed anything. "I want to see the rest of you. You're truly beautiful." Surprisingly, a little heat bloomed in his cheeks. She laughed. "Surely I'm not the first to tell you that. You do own a mirror or two."

He smiled and gave a disarming little shrug. "It wasn't what you said, it was how you said it." He lifted one of those fists, opened it and kissed her palm. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, very unsteadily. He was simply too perfect. And he was hers. At least for the next couple of hours.

The grin was back, along with a wink as he placed her hand on his waistband. "You strike me as a girl who has no problem going after what she wants. So go ahead. Take what you want."

She looked into his eyes, saw that he was serious and said, "I think I just might do that."

"Please."

She grinned and flicked open the silver button of his jeans, then tugged down his zipper. It was a bit challenging as it was currently being stretched rather beyond its intended usage. She paused halfway down. "I don't want to— I'm afraid I'll—" She stopped, then laughed lightly when his hands covered hers. "So much for being the bold, daring, take-what-she-wants type."

"I thought you were doing just fine." His voice was hoarse and a little strained. Blair looked up into his eyes and found such dark desire there, her smile faded away. He tugged on her hand, and she looked back down as he finished unzipping. He moved her hands to his hips, urging her to shove his pants down.

She did. He kicked out of his shoes and socks, sending the pants after them.

"Briefs," she murmured. Black ones. Bikinistyle. She gulped as he took her hands again. She wasn'tready, not yet. Well, she was, she was all but salivating. But not yet. Instead she moved his hands to her hips.

It wasn't until he began peeling the skin-like pants off her that she remembered she had nothing on beneath. He didn't seem to mind. Neither did she, as it turned out. She went to step out of her heels, but he said, "Leave them on."

She darted a look to his eyes, but complied. As it was, he was about four inches taller. Without the heels, it would be about half a foot difference. She figured it wouldn't hurt to minimize the difference, at least while they were standing.

Then he said, "Walk over to that chair." It wasn't a command, more a request.

Still, she was surprised by it. "Why?"

He smiled. "Because I asked nicely?"

Her thighs trembled a bit. Hadn't she fantasized about him calling the shots? The very idea made her even wetter. If possible. She felt her inner muscles clench hard as she turned and walked away from him across the room to a high-backed, Victorian-looking chair.

"Turn around."

She did. Very slowly. She didn't smile, nor did she look cool. She simply did as he asked until she faced him again. Then she waited.

"You are beautiful."

Now she smiled. Felt her skin heat.

"Don't believe me? Turn to your right."

She did, and gasped. There was a full-length oval mirror tucked in the corner between the dresser and the chair.

"Look at yourself, Blair."

She couldn't not. She looked … hot. And those black, razor-sharp heels were downright sex on stilts. She'd always thought herself passably attractive, basic beauty but no frills. Only, right now … dear God.

"Know what I see?" He moved behind her, so she could see him in the mirror. His body was wider than hers, taller than hers. He framed her entirely. His skin was darker, his look wilder, rougher. He made her look all the more refined, yet she didn't feel fragile.

He reached through her arms and gently cupped her breasts. She exhaled on a sharp gasp of pleasure, her knees giving slightly at the hot rush his touch set off. "I see nipples that stand out for my attention." He slowly rubbed his thumbs over them, eliciting a moan from her she couldn't contain. She whimpered when his hands slid away, but moaned again as his flat palms smoothed over her abdomen, then spread downward.

She trembled hard as his fingertips brushed at the apex of her thighs. "I want to see what you have waiting for me here, Blair," he said, his lips against the side of her neck.

It was impossibly arousing. She wanted to move his fingers lower, push them inside her. She stepped back, needing to feel his body touching hers, needing more than just his palms on her stomach, his fingers brushing her.

But he stepped back, then moved in front of her. He turned to face the mirror, almost entirely blocking her from view. "Turnabout is fair play, right?"

The muscles between her legs were tied in a knot of pleasure so tight she wanted to scream with the need to untie it. But she looked at him in the mirror and knew she wanted this even more. She stood just to the side of him and pressed her hands to his hips, then slid his briefs all the way down his legs to the floor. She was almost kneeling. She placed her hands just above his knees, then slowly dragged them upward as she stood again. He gasped this time as she slid her fingers around his pelvis, almost brushing against his jutting erection … but not quite.

"Do you know what I see?"

"What?" The word sounded as if it had been ripped from him.

She looked to his face, which stood in chiseled relief as he clenched his jaw, straining for control. "I see a man who can fill me like I've never been filled before."

He groaned but kept his hands at his side.

She remembered that moment in the elevator, when she'd fantasized about him stroking himself. She wanted to ask him to do it, even just once. She wanted to see his strong hand circle himself. He was so thick and rigid, and there was something so primal—But she couldn't.

"What is it, Blair?"

Damn the man for being so focused. "Nothing. I—"

"Tell me." This time it was a command.

"I – I wondered what it would look like if you—" She darted her gaze from his in the mirror, downward … then back up again. She couldn't say it, so she showed him. She took his hand. Hers was shaking. And she moved it across his thigh … and upward. "I've never— I wanted to see what—"

And then he wrapped his long, big hand around himself and stroked all the way to the tip and back again. "Is that what you wanted to see?"

She was panting. "Yes," she gasped. "God."

"Would you like to?"

She shook her head, but what she said was "Yes."

He took her hand and wrapped it around him. Again her knees buckled. He felt so intensely hard, and yet his skin was like velvet. Tightly ridged with veins that twitched beneath her touch. He groaned deep and long, as she slowly moved her hand down the full length of him.

"Stop." The command was harsh and hoarsely spoken.

She dropped her hand. "I'm sorry."

He turned to her. "We were both going to be really sorry there in a second."

Amazingly, she smiled, even laughed. "Then, thank you for stopping me."

"I didn't want to." His gaze darkened. "Damn but you feel good on me, Blair."

She swallowed. He was truly overwhelming to her in every way. It was a very heady thing to know she could affect him like this, too. It was that realization that gave her the boldness to look up at him and say, "I want to know how good you'll feel in me, Nate." She turned fully toward him so the tip of his erection brushed her belly. "Right now."


	4. Chapter 4

Warning: Sex, sex, sex!

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER FOUR<strong>

Nate had no idea what he'd done to deserve this day, but he damn well wanted to find out so he could do it again. Blair was like no other girl he'd ever met. She was intelligent, witty, sharp and absolutely sexy.

But she was also somewhat shy, or at least private. Definitely reserved when it came to sex. And yet she wanted so badly not to be. He was more than glad to help her out. In fact, it stunned him just what emotions and urges she brought out in him.

He had always firmly believed in seeing to his partner's pleasure as well as to his own. But something about Blair brought out twin urges to protect … and to dominate. He wasn't all that surprised at the former. But the latter shocked him. He was definitely not that guy. And yet he'd never felt more natural than when he told her to walk across that room. Yes, he'd sensed she wanted direction, wanted to be absolved, at least a tiny bit, of the pressure of being in control.

But nothing had prepared him for the rush it had given him when she'd complied. Maybe it was because she'd done so with her head high. No meekness, definitely no submissiveness. It hadn't been about domination or even control. It had been … primal. Intuitive. This need to push her. Push her toward discovering her own pleasure … and toward discovering his. Maybe it was because he knew she'd push back.

And the idea of that happening rocked him even harder.

"Now?" he answered her command. And yes, it had been a command. He had never been one for that, either, never desired women who almost liked to punish men for giving them pleasure. But this command, it was about mutual pleasure. He could definitely identify with that.

And maybe that was the real thrill here. That they would push and shove, command and demand the absolute greatest degree of pleasure from one another.

He grinned down at her, hoping they both survived the onslaught. She squealed when he suddenly stooped and scooped her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest. "Bed or wall?"

Her eyes popped wide. He loved that. "I beg your pardon?"

"No begging. I'm too far gone. I promise to make you beg next time, however. If that's what you want."

Her eyebrows narrowed. He loved that, too. Then the most devilish smile curved her lips. "We'll see who begs."

He swore his knees went a bit woozy. Certainly his heart skipped one or two beats.

"Bed," she said decisively. "Wall next time. If you're lucky."

"We'll see who feels lucky when I'm done with you."

He felt her squirm in his arms and knew he'd been right about the control issues. They would each test the other's limits. And have the best damn time of their lives doing it. He wondered how long he could keep her here in this room where they could do anything and everything. No strings attached.

He carried her to the bed, aching just to slide her body down and onto his. But the brown paper bag on the bed stopped him. Her gaze fell on it at the same time. "Do you want to do the honors? Or would you rather me?"

He could see her getting ready to say she'd rather let him, but after the slightest pause, she said, "I'll do it."

She truly intrigued him. He realized he was like some bold adventure to her, that it wasn't about him personally, but this secret thrill he'd come to represent to her. But rather than be insulted or offended by that, he had this undeniable urge simply to be the best damn adventure of her life. After all, it wasn't like he wouldn't be having a damn fine time, as well.

"I got several kinds."

She smiled. "I know."

"So just reach in and pick one. Unless you've decided you have a preference."

He let her slide to a stand, then turned to yank the covers off the bed, while she dumped the bag out on the sheets. He sprawled across the bed, then smiled and beckoned to her with a crooked finger. "And the lucky winner is?"

Me, he answered himself, as she crawled across the bed, purple foil packet in hand.

She was comfortable in her own skin, he noticed, but mostly when she wasn't thinking about the fact that she was naked in front of him. Part of him wanted to keep her distracted so she'd stay more at ease … and an equal part wanted to nudge her to confront it, to deal with it – and his part in it.

He rolled to his side, facing her. She didn't look at him as she struggled to tear the package open.

"You want help?" His offer only made her more determined. He'd remember that.

She finally looked right at him … and tore it open with her sharp white teeth. He'd do well to remember that, too.

"Okay," she said, looking from the silky latex in her hand, to him. "Are you sure we got the right size?"

He couldn't help it. He laughed. "Yeah," he finally managed to say. "Here—" He held out his hand, but instead of taking the condom, he took her wrist and guided her hand to him. "Just put it like this." He showed her. "Then roll it down. It stretches."

He had planned on watching, but as soon as her small fingers moved over him, pushing the latex down over his pulsing skin, he rolled to his back and groaned. He closed his eyes as she tugged and snugged it all the way to the base. He decided right then and there, he was never putting on his own condom again.

"Okay," she finally said.

He forced his eyes open. "Maybe you need more practice."

Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut as she realized he was teasing. "You do have a whole bag full of them." She was taunting. Daring.

He reached out and tugged her across his body. She yelped as he rolled her swiftly under him, pinning her arms gently but very firmly over her head. His legs held hers to the bed with no room for movement. He'd meant to taunt her back, make some smart-ass comment about seeing how many they could use in the next couple of hours.

But everything had changed the moment he had her helpless. There was not a shred of fear in her eyes. No. Exactly the opposite. Excitement, anticipation and … outright need shone from her dark eyes.

She wasn't helpless, after all. She had him right where she wanted him.

"I'm gonna fuck you, Blair." He knew it was the right thing to say when her pupils all but exploded in their rush to expand. "I'm going to fill you, every inch of you." He nudged himself between her legs. "One … inch … at … a … time." With each word he nudged a little more deeply. "I'm going to make you scream, Blair," he promised. She moaned softly, her hips pushing off the bed. He levered his body closer to hers, putting his mouth beside her ear. "With pleasure."

He pushed slowly into her, keeping her legs pressed to the bed so she could barely arch into him. It was excruciating torture for them both … and unbelievably arousing. She was so wet for him, his control slipped – and slipped badly.

"Scream for me, Blair," he said hoarsely, and pushed all the way in, his hips coming down hard on hers.

She did scream, and bucked hard against him. He stilled, but only for a second.

"Again!" she rasped. "God, Nate. Do it again."

"Yeah." It was all he was capable of, and even that came out like a grunt. She was sweet and tight and goddamn if she didn't take all of him and beg for more.

He pushed into her, making the bed jerk against the wall. Again. And again. And if he slowed down even slightly, she demanded it from him.

"Faster," she gasped.

He kept her pinned. She writhed beneath him like a fury, but kept him locked so tightly inside her lean little body, it might as well have been he who was pinned.

"Again, Nate. Deeper."

He growled, unable to stop now. His hips moved like pistons, plunging and withdrawing, only to plunge again. Again and again she took him, kept him, released him only to clutch at him again. He'd never been driven like this, mindless like this.

Then she turned her head and whispered, "Come for me, Nate. Come for me."

And now _he _screamed. His climax was instantaneous and all but ripped out of him. It kept rolling over him and through him for what seemed like an eternity. Afterward, he barely sustained his upper-body weight on his elbows to keep from crushing her altogether. He was still shuddering, and he felt so completely drained that he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to move again.

He pressed his face to the side of her neck. "You tricked me," he murmured.

"Tricked you?"

He finally managed to release her arms and roll to his side, pulling her with him. "I was going to take you to the limit … and then you tricked me into coming."

"I didn't think of it that way. Are you complaining?"

No way was he that good an actor. "Dear God, no." He laughed when she grinned. "But I was sort of focused on doing that for you." At the desire that spiked in her drowsy, sexy eyes, he pushed her to her back. "Not that I can't take care of that now."

She opened her mouth, then shut it again.

"You're not going to argue, huh?"

She shook her head, laughter and need mingling in her dark brown eyes.

"Smart girl." He leaned down and kissed her. "I'll be right back."

She half sat up as he left the bed, but he waved her back. "Clean-up duty." While in the bathroom, he also turned on the warm water and soaked a washcloth with it. Making sure it wasn't too hot, he wrung out the excess water and returned to the bedroom.

She looked quizzically at the little white towel, but said nothing. He slid onto the queen-size bed and urged her to the middle. "Prop your head on the pillows." She tugged several beneath her head. "And hand me the other one." She looked at him, but said nothing and pushed the last one toward him.

He shifted between her legs, then began to tuck the pillow beneath her hips. Her eyes widened in that way they did, and he smiled. "Trust me."

She shot him a look, but relaxed back on the pillows again. He wondered that she'd never played around like this before. Her previous partners must have been lawyers, too, he surmised with a private smile.

Once her hips were gently lifted, he spread her legs more widely. "Keep them here." Before she could reply, he unfolded the warm towel and laid it right between her legs. She gasped and started to sit up, but before he could even say anything, she sighed and laid right back down.

"God, that feels really good."

"Close your eyes and just relax. And enjoy."

Even as she nodded, her eyes were drifting shut.

He let the warmth of the towel soak into her, soothing her where he'd so recently been roughly moving against that soft skin. She moaned softly as he gently pressed the heel of his hand down against the warm towel.

He maintained the pressure, then slowly moved his palm down, until one finger dragged slowly and gently in the crease between her legs. She gasped again, this time her hips moving up to push against his finger. He stroked her again … and again, until she was moaning and reaching for his touch with her hips. The towel was becoming cool, so he slid it slowly off her, making sure it rubbed against her budded and highly sensitized clitoris before replacing it with his mouth. She arched violently against his tongue as he invaded her. He lifted his head just enough to look up at her. "Reach up, Blair. Hold on to the

headboard."

She opened her eyes and looked dazedly down at him. "Don't stop," she said hoarsely.

He grinned. "I have no intention of stopping. Hold on to the headboard, Blair," he repeated.

She reached blindly above her head as she continued to look at him.

"Hold on. Tight." And then he slid his finger into her and up over her, making her bow right off the bed. "Now, Blair. You come for me. You come for me hard." And he kept his tongue right there, on her, at her, until she completely came apart over him.

He was so fully into her orgasm, it took him a moment to realize he was hard again, his hips pushing involuntarily against the bed. Blindly he groped for the condoms she'd poured on the bed, even as he watched her climb that peak again. She shattered again, screaming this time.

He reared up, all but ripped the condom out of the packet and yanked it over himself. Then he was pulling her hips right up off the bed and onto him. Her legs flew up and locked tightly behind him as he gripped her hips and pushed into her almost violently. He couldn't get deep enough, she couldn't push herself onto him hard enough.

He kept his eyes on hers and watched as she climbed again. He slid a hand from her driving hips and rubbed his finger over her, just above where he was buried so deeply. She shrieked as she came even harder than before. And his climax came thundering right after.

They both slumped to the bed in a tangled, moist heap, the room filled only with the sounds of their heavy breathing.

Finally Nate managed to move. He pulled a pillow under his head, grabbed another from where it had been shoved in the frenzy and tucked it under her head. Then he turned to his side, pulled her slick body against his, tucked her head beneath his chin and let himself fall blissfully asleep.

* * *

><p>Blair was trying to slide quietly from the bed, when he finally woke up. "What time is it?" he<p>

murmured.

"Two. I have to catch a plane out of La Guardia in a couple of hours."

"Why are you whispering?"

She paused in gathering her clothes, then grinned. "Because you were sleeping," she said, still whispering.

He finally shoved the rest of the cobwebs aside and sat up. So, it was over. He felt as if it had just begun. "Let me grab a quick shower and I'll go to the airport with you."

That stopped her. She stood up, clutching her gold-colored silk top and impossibly spiky black heels. "I— I don't think we should. I mean, it's a long ride out, and I'm sure—" She gave a little self-conscious laugh. "Actually, I'm not sure of anything at the moment."

He slid off the bed and walked over to her. He tugged the shirt and heels out of her hands, glad when she didn't put up much of a struggle. He pulled her against him. "I'm sure of one thing."

She eyed him warily. "What is that?"

"I've never had a better morning in my entire life. Thank you for that, Blair."

She smiled then, looking almost shy. "I can return the compliment."

"I know you want this to be a sort of once-in-a-lifetime adventure."

She tensed and started to pull away.

He tightened his hold just enough to keep her in his arms. "Hear me out." He waited until she nodded. "I know your career is your focus. Right now, I'm pretty busy in that regard, as well. We both travel a lot, and that makes relationships almost impossible."

She seemed to relax a bit.

He looked into her eyes, then took a breath and said, "So since we're both in the same boat, neither of us looking for something permanent, the kind of thing we'd have to share with the other parts of our lives… why don't we just share this."

"This?"

"Yeah." He motioned to the room around them. "This."

"You mean, like have an affair?"

"I don't know if it has a name." He touched her hair. "I think we both enjoyed some of the things we explored here today. It was good and fun. But it was also kind of safe."

"Safe?"

"Yeah. I knew you weren't looking for more than this, and you knew the same about me. It sort of frees us up to just relax and enjoy. And explore a little more than we otherwise would." He tilted her chin up, when she looked away. "Didn't you feel that, Blair? A sort of secret thrill in getting to do things you wouldn't normally do?"

She looked at him for so long, he didn't think she was going to answer. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath, until she did finally speak. "Yes. Yes, this was … exciting." She looked at him. "And no, I don't normally do this."

"Nor do I."

"So what are you proposing?"

"That we exchange travel schedules. See where and when they might intersect. When they do, we can get together and … explore. Safely. No other strings."

"No intrusions into the other parts of our lives." She said this almost to herself.

He felt hope blossom in his chest. "Right. This is just for ourselves. No expectations other than that when we're alone together, we leave everything else outside the door and just enjoy each other. Maybe explore some of those other hidden desires and wants you've wondered about but haven't wanted to give your partner an insight into."

She pulled out of his arms. "I don't know, Nate. This was undeniably wonderful. But I don't know if I can just … I don't know … schedule something like this into my life. It seems so—"

"Perfect," he said, unwilling to give up. "I'm not seeing anyone seriously. You?"

She shook her head.

"Like I said. Perfect. Consider it an outlet. Something you give yourself, like a trip to the spa or

something."

She laughed.

"Okay, okay, but you know what I mean. What's so wrong with that? No one has to know. And if we meet someone in our personal lives that we intend to get serious about, then that's it. No questions asked. Otherwise, it will last as long as we both want it to." He walked to her. "No intrusions into each other's lives. We control this. It is what we want it to be. Nothing more, nothing less."

She looked into his eyes again, then finally looked away. "I don't know." She pulled away again and went to the bathroom. "I just don't think I can do that. I'm sorry, Nate." She disappeared behind the bathroom door. He didn't pursue her.

What he did instead was to grab some hotel stationery and write down his schedule for the next several months. He jotted down where he'd be, on what dates, and at what hotels. He tucked it into her purse for her to find later. Maybe by then she'd have a change of heart.

At the bottom of the note, he wrote, "Now you know where to find me." And he signed it _Your Secret Thrill._


End file.
